Fornite Asylum
by greenlightning04862
Summary: Based off a Chatzy RP between theawesomehuman and I and a few others. GerIta with a side story of France x Fem!America.
1. The Beginning

Sometimes, life can be a cold, cruel thing. Almost no time to do what you wish, yet all the time to do what you despise. Such a waste, and yet life is to gain. Perhaps I should end this monologue and introduce myself. My name is Feliciano. Feliciano Vargas. I was admitted to Fornite at the age of 16. My official diagnosis is 'Minor Bi-Polar Disorder', but really it's just frequent- and violent- mood swings. Imagine a woman on their period times twenty, plus anxiety and hypersomnia. That's me. And this is my story.

It started when I was 16, obviously. My real- my biological mother had abandoned me before I could even talk. I was born in Italy, that much I know. Given to a woman named Falmine Dragomir at a young age, I was raised in Maine. Until I was 12, and then we moved to New York. Mama- That's Falmine- couldn't afford to live in Maine anymore. There weren't enough good jobs. So to New York we went, to the city. To the flashing lights. Me, my younger siblings, and my older brother. There were four of us, the last of our generation. Feliciano, that's me, Lovino, My older brother, Silvia, My youngest sister, and Romeo, my youngest brother.

I still remember the day I was taken away from them, the day I was brought to the hell that was- That still is- Fornite Asylum. It was a cool day, slight wind and rain. There was a man in a business suit, black hair, in his early twenties. It'd been happening for a while, the thoughts. But as soon as he began commenting on her, Silvia, I had lost it. I remember picking up the stone, and then looking at his skull. I saw the blood, running down the storm drain with the gentle trickle of water, staining it an ominous red. I remember Silvia's forest eyes, staring at me with disbelief, the screams of onlookers in my head, though ringing in my ears.

And then I was here. The time between the murder and the day I was put here is a bit of a blur, I will admit, but I remember walking into the place. They told me I was in Ward D, Room 115. I couldn't help it, I was sobbing, crying, reaching out for my siblings- but Silvia had taken to crying on Marcello's shoulder, and Lovino was shaking his head as he walked out, leaving the younger siblings to follow. And I guess that's how I ended up there, in that room, blank white walls that I knew would soon be littered with drawings and writing. It wasn't the worst, But I had only scratched the surface of Hell at that point.


	2. Paging Nurse Beilschmidt

I very quickly learned my place in the asylum. I was nothing, really. I got up every day, in the beginning excited to see what I could do- which was nothing, really. At noon or so, I'd go get some lunch, usually pasta or soup. I'd eat, head back to my room, and draw. Draw whatever I thought of, which was usually Silvia or some sort of landscapes. For a while, I had a doctor who's name I never learned though I knew his face. Red hair, freckles, obviously of Irish descent. The doctor came and went with a few others, but I wasn't interested. I was much too interested in the other patients. There was a quiet man named Bjørn Thomassen, who I watched silently without a word. Then there was Alfred Jones, the always smiling person. He had a slightly southern accent, like he was from Texas. But I just sat and watched the patients, not paying much attention to any of the doctors or nurses until about 5 years later. One day, I was just eating lunch like always, and then-

"Hallo, Are you Feliciano Vargas?" A gruff voice, with a slight accent arose from behind me. I let out a sharp squeal of surprise, backing into a corner before letting out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I merely stared at the man, drinking him in. Standing at about what had to be at least 5'10, blonde hair that was pulled back to reveal ice blue eyes. I let out a sigh of relief. This man seemed to be trustworthy, though I remained silent. I'd been here long enough to know when to speak to a doctor or a nurse or whatever sort of authority he held over a long time ago. I finally spoke, though it was quietly and slowly and in the language of my birthplace.

"Yes, I am Feliciano Vargas. And you are?" I lifted my head, my gentle eyes meeting his steely ones. He paused, then frowned. I repeated my question in English. Sometimes I forget that the whole world doesn't speak Italian, though I wish they did. Then everyone would understand me better. As soon as I spoke again in English, the man grunted, a gruff, though not angry sound.

"I'm Ludwig. Ludwig Beilscmidt. A trainee." He grunted again. That had been all I'd needed to hear. He was staff. I was to treat him with respect. I bowed my head, looking at my bowl of soup that had now gone cold. Small strands of brunette hair fell past my face, and I pushed them back behind my ear, finally gathering some courage and raising my head. I didn't speak, instead I just got up to empty my bowl and then came to sit back down.

"So you work here." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. No use denying what you knew to be truth, and his attire supported my statement. A pair of white pants and a white T-Shirt with the asylum's sign on it. My smile was a fake one as he reached out a hand.

"I do, though you seem to know that." I lifted my head back up, my caramel eyes blinking as I frowned at the sarcastic tone.

"I do." I mumbled, though the words were dry. He smiled a bit, though I could tell it was a fake one like my own. I felt my head droop back down, my eyes refusing to meet his, though this didn't last long as he pulled my chin up. "Do you need something?" Was my automatic response, though I knew he could sense my fear. I almost felt connected to this man. It was a simple click of the mind, which was unusual for me.

"...I just wanted to see your eyes." The accent was clear now, it was German. I let out a soft sigh, my caramel eyes rolling.

"Of course you did." I sighed, pulling my chin away from him. "Is there a particular reason you've decided to visit my table?" I watched as the German craned his neck to look around. There was no doubt in my mind that he was just realizing that I sat alone, and the tables near me were unoccupied as well.

"...Do you not have any friends?" I hadn't been expecting the question, and I blinked a few times. No one had ever asked if I had any friends before. They'd usually just left the question alone. I frowned, biting my lip slightly.

"No, I don't. I don't know anyone here. Well...I know their names and their faces, but I don't know what they're like."

"Ah." The German replied gently, and I could see three-hundred things flying around in his mind at once. "Well...I should leave you to do what you do," He stood up from his spot and pushed in the chair, cracking a small smile. "It was nice to meet you, Mister Vargas."

"Call me Feli." I smiled a bit as well. I finally- after five years- had a friend.


	3. Feli Will Be Feli

Soon after I met Ludwig, I met another staff member. This one was a girl. A prety girl. She was dirty blonde, her hair short with a star hairclip. My eyes met hers, and I smiled a bit. She was pretty. She reminded me of the beach. I expected her to speak to me, but instead, Ludwig, who escorted the nurse, introduced her.

"Feliciano, this is my little sister, Amelia."

"I'm not your little sister, dude!" She spoke with a southern accent, like she was from Texas. I blinked. She didn't look like a cowgirl, but she spoke that way- and now I could see the twinkle in her eyes. "Amelia F. Jones, Anxiety Nurse. I'll be one of your nurses- If I'm right, I'm the only girl you see all day, right? The only girl nurse, anyway. You've got good old Luddy here-"

"Don't call me that!" The German man roared, and I immediately dived under my bed. He's a scary person when he yells, but Amelia looked unfazed.

"Bro, Relax! It's no big deal!" She paused, and then began humming. I blinked. She just...She just waved him off like it was nothing. That was amazing. But I could feel some sort of emotion bubbling inside me, just as Ludwig moved to sit on the bed. I let out a triumphant cry, and reached out to grab her ankle. A wave of rage crashed over me as I pulled her to the ground. I heard her skull thump against the cold, hard floor. I felt my fist make contact with her face, and I felt her nails digging into my arms. But nothing could stop me, almost nothing could stop me when I was this angry. Almost nothing- And an angry German was one of the very few things that could.

Ludwig lunged at me, pulling me into what was pretty much a bear hug. I squirmed for a while, but then I just gave in. I heard Amelia's voice as she crawled into the hallway, calling for other nurses with her radio-thing. I blinked back tears as a sudden wave of guilt hit me. I had attacked her. She had just been trying to be nice to me, and I attacked her. I began to silently weep. That's what's so horrible about my condition. I'm just like everyone else- I do something bad, and then I feel horrible about it. Now imagine that- times infinity.

_That's my whole life in a nutshell._


End file.
